


Titled 'Oh God Oh No' in my notes

by MelodyAR



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (it's weed), F/F, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Jon is the Eye's favourite, M/M, OG!Elias is back, Other, POV Elias, because i am but a simple he/they who likes spooky stories and dislikes gender, but Elias doesn't exist for the first half so it's kind of weird, but just know that i support he/they skirt jon, i know it was a fairly obvious guess but 'Jon replaces Jonah' was my theory first ok!!!!, i would like to write more than a mention of WTG, it wasn't but you get this out of it, it's not actually relevant or even mentioned yet, let Martin kick Elias 2021, mainly because i want Georgie to get to deck Elias even though he's nice now, non-binary jon, set right after MAG192, that might not be great for some people, theres a lot of stuff about Elias being unused to being his own person?, this does not go well for him, this may be continued but i don't know yet, uhhh i cant tag well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:22:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29204292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodyAR/pseuds/MelodyAR
Summary: Jon tries to fix the world, but it doesn't really work like that. So, now Martin has to deal with the consequences.The consequences being a stoner with the face of the man who traumatised you over a period of about 4 years and then ended the world, and also the love of your life being completely unresponsive. Fun.Also this swings wildly between a crack fic and the most poetic prose I have written in a while, so be warned.
Relationships: Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, OG!Elias & Martin Blackwood
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Titled 'Oh God Oh No' in my notes

**Author's Note:**

> Just a heads up, I use some weird formatting in here because Elias isn't used to being a person anymore, so I use * in place of some pronouns for a few paragraphs. It makes sense to me, but it's probably harder to read if you didn't write it, so:  
> *=I  
> **=me/my  
> ***=I'm

The brick clatters to the floor, having missed its target. The man who threw it is panting with effort, going back to the wall and pulling out another loose brick, pulling his arm back and squinting at the being floating metres above him.

“Martin, stop,” another man says. “You’re only going to hurt yourself and it won’t do anything.”

“How do you know? Has anyone hit Jonah with a brick before?” Martin grumbles; he lowers his arm anyway. “Don’t tell me I can’t throw things at him, Jon, it’s been my only goal for this entire journey.”

Jon chuckles. His eyes glow slightly for a moment, static rising in the air, dishevelled hair drifting upwards (like a Studio Ghibli character but if Studio Ghibli made straight-up horror movies), before he turns to Martin with a shrug.

“You are the first person to throw bricks at him,” he says. “Go wild, just don’t hurt yourself.”

Martin grins, raising his arm again for another shot. It misses by miles. He walks over to the wall again, tugging on yet another loose brick. As he makes his sixth journey across the tower, he looks at his partner with a tilted head, frowning softly as he tries to read Jon’s expression.

“What can we do? You’re clearly thinking of something.”

Jon blinks a few times, looking back at Martin. His eyes are shifting, they haven’t stopped since he arrived, but there’s a constant nervous sickness there that feels almost familiar. He has the eyes of someone doing the right thing who knows nobody around them agrees. He’s made a decision, and it’s difficult to tell what it is, but something is clear – he won’t be talked out of it.

“You promised me that if it came down to it, you would let me go to save the world,” he says. 

Martin nods slowly, the fear in Jon’s eyes spreading to his, his posture tensed and his hands shaking. The brick he holds trembles dangerously above his foot.

With the sudden urgency of an atheist’s dying prayer, Martin grabs Jon’s arm; he tosses the brick aside and pulls him into a tight hug. The need to ask what will happen is tangible around him, but he breathes quietly for a few moments before stepping back, grim acceptance in every move he makes. He doesn’t want to ask questions anymore. It would be admirable if he had made the decision years earlier. Now, it’s just impressive.

Jon steps forward, and the room whispers ‘Archivist’. There is a sudden realisation, a memory from a mind that lost itself before the memory was formed. It hangs in the air, vibrating with energy, a mix of fear and hope blurring into complete despair and sharpening into life, the room whispering louder, louder, Archivist, Archivist, and the parasite that clings to this world pulls away for a second, every being still sentient filled with a joy that does not belong to them, as the Eye (the ruler, the ceaseless one, the host and the guest and the house) rejoices as its favoured pupil joins it at long last.

* don’t understand it. * shouldn’t be here. * was lost, long ago, taken by hubris. * can’t even tell whose it was anymore, only that * am gone and * am here.

“Woah, hey, back off,” Martin says. * don’t remember hearing the name, but * know that it’s his. *** so caught up in trying to figure out why * know his name that it takes a moment to realise that *** stumbling towards him. 

“Sor-“ * say, before ** voice cracks from disuse. Martin narrows his eyes, before reaching into his backpack and pulling out a bottle of water.

“It’s old, and I can’t guarantee it’s still water, but you look like you could use it.”

* can’t quite process what he’s saying, partially because of the word ‘you’. It’s directed at **, clearly, as he tosses the bottle towards **, but ‘you’ doesn’t apply to ** anymore. * am not a person. * am a conduit, twice over. Still, as * take a few seconds to drink for the first time in ** memory, * turn the concept over in ** mind. Does ‘you’ apply now? Do other words too?

* finish the drink. Partway through * think it turned to crude oil, but the feeling of liquid is so foreign * stomach it anyway. Dropping the stained bottle to the tower’s floor, * test out my new words with a phrase * dig up from somewhere deep inside **.

“Jesus Christ, I need a smoke. Don’t suppose you have anything on you?”

“N- no, I don’t,” Martin raises an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, are you- Elias?”

I blink at the name. It feels familiar, but I have to pull it away from another Elias first, tear at the name until it splits into a before and after. I go to nod before remembering my voice is my own.

“I think so, but please call me Eli. The name doesn’t really belong to me anymore,” I pause as I think through my words again, snorting at the joke.

Martin stares at me. I stare back absently until I realise I can share my thoughts now, and then that I can’t share them directly anymore.

“Sorry, it’s just- call me Eli, because the guy you met was an ass.” It’s not even that funny once I say it out loud, but the tension between us lightens a bit as Martin smiles. His face is more surprised than amused, but I’ll take it.

He seems to recover a little bit, shaking his head slightly and turning to his companion.

“Jon, you made that sound a lot more dramatic than it- Jon?”

He runs to Jon before I even register that something is wrong, but when I approach it dawns on me that Jon hasn’t spoken since I woke up. Jon hasn’t even blinked. He’s just stood there, silently, eyes glazed over but still human, still tinged with the nerves of a sinful priest.

Martin is chanting his name now, pleading for a response, and the desperation in his voice turns the single syllable into a hymn, and I realise that this is the third religious metaphor I’ve made since these two arrived. I make a note to my therapist before I remember that a), I don’t have a therapist, and b), it’s going to be hard to find one in this economy, and c), the economy collapsed a long time ago and now runs entirely on fear and I need to catch up on that. 

“Jon- Jon, ok, we’re going to find a way to fix this I swear, we’ll go talk to Melanie and Georgie and we’ll figure it out…”

Martin keeps babbling for a while, and I thrill in the experience of being able to tune it out. Maybe if he asks I’ll tell him I wanted to give him some privacy, but honestly I don’t think it’s ever felt better to zone out before. I know he’s not going to judge me either, his eyes are softer than most people’s, and I can tell by some lingering power that curiosity is no longer a trait he can admire. For a few minutes I lie on the floor and breathe, taking in the feeling of a solid floor and the control over my body. I twitch each muscle in turn, relishing the speed with which they respond. Vaguely I recall this from a meditation guide. 

God, I need to be high right now.

I’m jerked from my pseudo-meditation by a rough kick to my ankle. I sit up to see Martin looking down at me with a mixture of pity and irritation. His eyes are slightly damp, too, but he nods to the door like nothing’s wrong.

“Come on,” he says. “We need to tell the others, and I’m not leaving you here alone.”

“I’m going to assume that’s distrust rather than empathy, but thanks anyway.” I shrug, getting shakily to my feet, which obey me readily despite their weakness.

“Yeah, don’t thank me yet,” he looks darkly at the door to the stairs (and now I realise how many stairs there are, and I sigh). “I’m pretty sure there’s a line of people waiting to kick you harder than I did.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please give me feedback on this! I do want to finish it (or at least write Georgie decking Elias, I cannot stress enough how much I want to write Georgie decking Elias I know he's not the bad guy anymore I just think he should get punched a little bit and Georgie deserves to go ham again) but I forget about projects very easily and I'm much more likely to keep going if somebody expresses interest. I'm posting this purely because someone asked me to post it after I made a joke on Tumblr - shoutout to sav-en-garde, if you read this thank you for the confidence boost!
> 
> Also can you tell I have never done drugs in my life? Do the 5 minutes I spent deciding what a normal way to ask if someone has weed would be show? Plus I want to say Elias is gay but he's also oblivious and not good with normal people so he refers to Jon and Martin as partners/companions because it doesn't occur to him for a while that they're together. This may be resolved comedically if I can think of something funny to write later.


End file.
